


so fill up your lungs and just run

by aceofdiamonds



Series: quidditch after the war au [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1829611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofdiamonds/pseuds/aceofdiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry chooses quidditch after the war. it's fun, he's good at it, and it helps him cope with everything </p><p>“I really am happy,” he tells Hermione after two months with the Tornados when she raises an eyebrow and doesn't ask the question he knows is almost permanently at the edge of her mouth. “I feel... free,” which is the only way to really describe the way his chest feels less and less tight every day, how the nightmares are marginally decreasing, some nights he actually sleeps right through. “I think this is helping.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	so fill up your lungs and just run

**Author's Note:**

> so all i really want is harry to be a big quidditch star after the war. that means this isn't exactly epilogue compliant.

It seems almost worse after the war.

Harry’s glad they're not living in constant danger, he’s so relieved people aren’t fearing for their lives over their blood-type, and he can’t quite believe he got out of it alive, but there’s something at the corner of his mind, pulling at the edges, that makes him almost miss the time before the Final Battle.

Before he had always known he had a purpose; when it all came down to it, title or not, prophecy or no, he had been the one to kill Voldemort; he had wanted to and he had put everything in to make that happen.

And then the words had been said, the spells thrown, and it was over, and now Harry doesn’t really know where to go from here.

He chooses Quidditch in the end.

There’s talk about fast-track access to the Aurors for those who aided the war effort. It’s a path a lot of people want to take after being a part of the Battle of Hogwarts, continuing the clean-up after Voldemort’s reign, and maybe he’ll take that option one day but right now Harry wants Quidditch.

There’s something about flying, the control that comes from leaning slightly to the left or right, the speed and agility that seems to come from somewhere inside him, so natural his doesn’t even have to think about it, his goal simply to find the Snitch before the other team’s Seeker. It's something he needs at the moment. 

Maybe there’s something psychological hiding under his choice to play over catching dark wizards but Harry wants the freedom, the easiness, just for a little while, fuck whatever anyone says.

So he chooses Quidditch but now he has to find a team who will be willing to take him. There’s the Cannons but they’ve got a Seeker at the moment, as useless as he may be, and then there’s Wood over at Puddlemere United but that doesn’t feel right either. He goes along to the Wasps’ try-outs but they practically offer him the position as soon as he walks through the door without even seeing him fly and that’s not how he wants to do this so he thanks them and says he’ll think about it, Apparating home with the sense that maybe this won’t work out how he thought.

And then he hears the Tutshill Tornados are looking for a Seeker so he turns up, his Firebolt clutched tightly in his hand, and flies to what he hopes is a reasonable standard. At the end of it Brevis Birch shakes his hand and tells him he’s impressed, he definitely exceeded their expectations. That makes a grin tug at the sides of Harry’s mouth, his thanks a little breathless. He wants this, he realises then. It’s more than just a whim, a chance to escape, he wants to be here on this team with their sky blue uniforms and fiercely competitive feeling in the air.

“Welcome to the Tornados, Harry,” Birch says, and the next part of his life starts.

 

.

 

The team are great. Henderson, one of the Chasers, is a bit funny at first, dropping comments about Harry’s fame getting him places he doesn’t deserve to be, but then Harry does a Wronski Feint during training and he mostly shuts up after that. Birch takes him out for drinks at the end of the first week, half of the team tagging along, and it’s... nice meeting all of these new people with a shared passion that doesn’t necessarily involve death or curses. Finwick, their Keeper, nudges Harry then and whispers that it’s a good thing Birch doesn’t allow wands in the air or there _would_ be a lot more injuries than necessary.

It’s a well-run team, reminiscent of Gryffindor under Wood’s captaincy, more put together than Harry’s season with the badge, and Harry finds himself enjoying himself every day.

“I really am happy,” he tells Hermione after two months with the Tornados when she raises an eyebrow and doesn't ask the question he knows is almost permanently at the edge of her mouth. “I feel... free,” which is the only way to really describe the way his chest feels less and less tight every day, how the nightmares are marginally decreasing, some nights he actually sleeps right through. “I think this is helping.”

Hermione’s eyes soften and she doesn’t mention the Aurors anymore or Harry’s potential.

“I’m so jealous, mate,” Ron says, taking a gulp of his Butterbeer then offering the bottle to Hermione who shakes her head and finishes her coffee. “Tornados have been beautiful recently.”

Harry grins. He’s looked up reports of their past few seasons, his stomach flipping excitedly at being able to call himself part of such a historic team. “Let’s hope I can continue that streak.”

“If you still fly the same as at school you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

It’s funny how reassurance from Ron is that little bit more important than from anyone else.

Hermione looks between the two of them, still not quite able to grasp Quidditch and everything it stands for, but she’s happy for him, if a little confused. “We’ll come to your first game, Harry, okay?”

“Think you can get us special seats?” Ron drops an arm around Hermione’s shoulder, his voice hovering in between joking and serious. “You know, perks of the job?”

“Obviously, Ron. Think Ginny will get us tickets when she joins the Harpies?”

“Ginny told me she was thinking about going into Healing,” Hermione says, her ankle tapping against Ron’s leg in an off-beat rhythm.

“Mione,” Ron says seriously, “I will eat my hand if Ginny doesn’t play Quidditch professionally,” which, coming from Ron, is something.  

They laugh and Harry is suddenly hit with how much he misses the two of them. He still sees them a lot but after sharing a tent for a year and everything they did together before that, it’s still taking a few months to adjust. He catches Hermione’s eye, both of them rolling their eyes at Ron, then laughing, the three of them falling into that little space that just doesn’t seem to fit anywhere else. 

Hermione’s looking into Education, jobs at the Ministry, still not quite sure where she might end up but keeping her options and qualifications open; Ron’s taking the Auror route along with Neville and Dean.

They're all doing different things but here they are in Harry's living room, alive and together, and that's enough.

.

 

The news that Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, their Saviour, whatever they're calling them these days, is skipping out to play professional Quidditch instead of going into their revamped and improved government gets mixed reactions.

 _The Quibbler_ , is, of course, the one that surprises Harry the most by printing claims that the Tornados’ winning streak is down to various forms of cheating ranging from blackmail to torture. Having trained with them now for a couple of months Harry can tell Luna that as competitive and fierce as they are there have definitely been no mentions of torture methods or information on rival teams that is below board. Luna takes his comments with a shrug and says her father has been saying this for years, he’ll prove it one day.

Considering this seems to be the worst press that comes out of Harry’s announcement, he doesn’t push it.

The next time he’s at the Burrow Ginny elbows him in the side at dinner, telling him she’s got a try-out for Holyhead Harpies in a couple of weeks so watch out. He laughs and nudges her back -- they haven’t gone back to what they were before, not yet, but they’re maybe moving in that direction, the easiness of them something Harry doesn’t want to take before they’re both ready -- and says his Chasers are not to be underestimated. He gets a scoff at that.

Another surprise comes in the form of a letter from Cho Chang who congratulates Harry and asks how Ron is taking the news. Harry remembers the last time he saw Cho, the blood on her cheek and the swell of her broken ankle but her wand hand steady as she Stunned a Death Eater moving towards her and Anthony Goldstein. He writes back with an offer to meet up one day to discuss the upcoming season, it’ll be good to hear the observations of a long-term fan and fellow Seeker.

Henderson reads out the Tornados’ fans comments like they’re the most hilarious thing he’s ever seen. “We’re only taking you because you’re The Chosen One, by the way, and Mr Ray Smith is _furious_.”

“Like you never thought that at the start,” Grace, a Chaser, calls over as they’re getting changed, pulling a book out of her bag as they wait for Henderson to be done. Harry half wants to join her, half wants to hear more opinions. As if he hasn’t heard enough from the public over the years.

“But then I saw him _play_ ,” Henderson replies like this is obvious which it probably is to him. Harry likes him; there’s a weird combination of Ron and Malfoy in there which doesn’t sound likeable but actually sort of is. “And I realised he has skills.”

Harry rolls his eyes at Grace who winks at him.

“Hey this lady is saying she’s so happy we’ve got a good Seeker. McGregor wasn’t that bad, no offence, Harry.”  

 

.

 

“You ready, Potter?” Henderson asks as they’re waiting in the changing rooms before their opening match of the season against the Appleby Arrows. “Their usual Seeker’s out with an injury and their Reserve has nothing on you.”

“Good to hear.” It feels like his stomach is trying to revolt against him and if he doesn’t stop swallowing there could be a chance the sandwich he had several hours ago will reappear on his shoes. This is nerves before Hogwarts, before his first match with Gryffindor, before fucking Voldemort, multiplied by a thousand. “Thanks, Henderson.”

He gets a clap on the shoulder from Birch, a nod from Grace, and Matson, a Beater, leans in as they’re walking down the tunnel to reassure Harry that everyone throws up after their first game so don’t feel too bad about it later, which helps wildly.

The crowd cheers as they walk out onto the pitch; when Harry does a quick sweep of the stands he sees a few Potter signs which both calms him and makes his throat hurt. This is _Quidditch_ , he’s _good_ at this, it’s in his _blood_ , it’s going to be fine.

And it is.

They _win_.

290-40.

Harry thinks he’s discreet about vomiting in the toilets afterwards, the adrenaline still coursing round his body, his hands so shaky he wonders how he caught the Snitch at all but he did and now Matson is grinning over at him knowingly when he steps back into the locker room where the celebrations are still going on.

“You did good, kid,” Birch crows. “This is gonna be a good season!”

Harry laughs. “We play the Cannons next, right? That’s my best mate’s team.”

“Your mate’s going to be crying into their hands,” Henderson says before he jumps onto the bench and starts dancing to the Weird Sisters’ song Grace and Finwick are chanting.

The smile on his face makes his face hurt in a way it hasn’t for a while and that’s what tells him he made a good choice here.

 

.

 

Guilt still washes over him every time he sees a member of a family broken by the war, when he talks to a house elf, and the nightmares are lessening but they haven’t gone away, that won’t happen for a long time, he knows this, but he forgets about it all when he’s in the air and all he has to do is find the Snitch and avoid getting a Bludger to the face. He doesn’t know if this is a rational or acceptable way of dealing with things but it’s working for him, slowly, and so he’ll take it.

 

.

 

(Harry misses the Snitch in their match against the Wimbourne Wasps which is awful because it’s the _Wasps_ and then he gets knocked off of his broom by a stray Bludger in training leading to him sitting out the Magpies game but he catches the Snitch in less than five minutes when they play Puddlemere United and Oliver Wood seeks him out afterwards and tells him he always knew he would go pro which is still enough of a compliment from his ex-Captain to make Harry blush a little.

The Tornados top the league for the third year running, Ron admits they must have something good going for them after all but refuses to swap orange for blue, and Harry feels at peace.)

  
  



End file.
